


Stratagem

by orchidbreezefc



Category: All-New X-Factor, X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Nudity, Personal Space Invasion, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-10 18:08:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2034894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orchidbreezefc/pseuds/orchidbreezefc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set just after the events of All-New X-Factor #11, Gambit is left at Serval's doorstep with his team, dressed only in his coat. It's Quicksilver's job to warm him up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stratagem

**Author's Note:**

> With very much self-control not titled 'Good Vibrations'.
> 
> No phonetically-spelled accent for Gambit, because it's tacky and god knows barely any of the people who write him know what a Cajun accent even sounds like. Can you believe that in canon they write in his accent for his _internal narration_? Yuck.
> 
> Also, I hadn't looked back at how #11 ends until just now... turns out this fic is unsuitably cheery, given those circumstances. Oops! Just forget everything after page 17 and it should be fine, haha.

When your team brings Gambit back, he comes plodding sheepishly, not making enough of an effort in your opinion to cover himself with his jacket, which is all he is wearing. He just leaves it open. You have no spare clothes to insist he put on, but having to look away so much makes you irate. 

"Thanks," Gambit mumbles around Cypher performing a cursory check to make sure he is all there, as it were. The Cajun offers a flash of a smile, formed with chittering teeth.

"Of course, Remy," Lorna says. "I'll make sure to find out exactly how this happened." She has a certain fire in her eyes, and is offhanded about adding, "Get Remy warmed up, Pietro."

"What? Why do I have to do it?" you ask crossly. You hardly want to look at Gambit, let alone be responsible for him.  
"You're the one who's got the friction, ami," Remy cuts in with a grin. He sees your eyes widen in incensed disbelief and adds, "Your powers, homme."

"Ah," you say irritably as Lorna, damn her, walks back into the building. Your other teammates glance at you and Gambit, then at each other, and finally scurry after her. "I suppose there are those."

There is a pause as you take in what you can of Gambit without ogling anything. "Fine. I'll just get you to your room then," you say. "Come along."

"Ah, no, ami, no, Remy will freeze dead before he gets there! Please," he says, sidling up to you a little and visibly turning on the charm. "A little heat from you to Remy, no?"

"I don't like the way you're talking about this," you say stiffly, "or the fact that you are at all."

"Oh, don't be so stingy." Remy cocks his head rather endearingly. It makes your hands itch into fists. You very much would like to hit him. 

But you don't. You say, "Fine," grab his wrist--riding up the sleeve of his jacket--and you vibrate. 

"Ah," Gambit says in disappointment as the motion wracks him. "No! No, ami, that's no good, the whole rest of Remy is still so cold." When you merely scowl, he puts on the puppy dog eyes. "Have some pity! Poor old Remy's freezing at your mercy; he's half naked, you know." He shivers for effect.

"Don't remind me," you growl, and drop his wrist. You slip your hands under his coat and onto his bare shoulders underneath, too annoyed to slow the movement enough for him to register it. He's still jolting in surprise when you start vibrating. 

"Ah," he says, and puts his hands on your hips. You see the movement coming, but you jerk at his touch anyway. "That's--hmm."

"It's what, exactly?" you say, your voice tense and clipped and not quite as slow as it really should be. He still seems to understand you, just cocks his head and hums. 

"Well, first off"--he pulls your wrists into his hands and you stop vibrating. "It knocks Remy's teeth, homme."

"What do you want me to do, then?" you ask sourly, failing to twist out of his grasp. 

"Ah," he says, "easy," and he takes your hands, slips them into his coat--oh god--and links them around his bare waist. Oh god. 

"There," he says with a definite cat-that-caught-the-canary air. "Parfait."

You don't know how to react, you're so angry. You're so scandalised. You're so _close_. And all Remy seems to want to do is drift closer. You wonder if you are imagining his penis brushing against the inside of your thigh as he moves in toward you. You are maybe starting to panic.

"Well, this is a little warmer," he says dryly, "but you could do better. Now is good."

What can you do? What can you say? You stutter indignantly, and you vibrate. Your thoughts are coming too fast to make sense of anything. It's all gibberish and anger and anxiety and a voice somewhere that's saying 'yes'. 

"Oh, cher," Remy breathes as the friction spreads over his skin, and he quite literally snuggles into you, actually putting his head on your shoulder. Your arms tighten around him instinctively just a bit before you stop yourself. 

"That's wonderful," he purrs, nuzzling his stubbled cheek at your ear. This is really happening. ' _Yes_.' "Soooo warm."

You splutter again as your mouth tries to voice every thought at once. Your fingers try not to caress Gambit's hipbones too much but you still map out the structure of them a little in the tiny movements of the vibration itself. ' _Yes_.' Your lungs don't seem to be working at regular efficiency. None of the air is coming through. 

Gambit slips a finger under your chin and lifts it up so your face is tilted up toward his, and he says, "Cher," and when did he start calling you 'cher' instead of 'ami' or 'homme'? You try to be defiant but when you meet his eyes your eyelids keep trying to flutter closed. 

"Merci beaucoup," he murmurs in a voice so rich and deep and 'YES' and you feel your body lean into it. Gambit's red irises rove from your eyes to your mouth and then his lips are on you--on your cheek. 

And then he's stepping away. 

"Oui, that will do, Remy thinks," he says, finally pulling his coat around himself, and you can't help glancing down and just getting a glimpse. "Thank you, Pietro."

You only stammer in reply, entirely bemused and somewhat aroused. Remy smiles beatifically. He pats you on the shoulder. "Oui, merci, you're un ange." Then, when you're starting to think you might have imagined what happened just now, he passes his hand over your rear. He winks and steps away. "Bye, Speedy."

Gambit goes into the building humming a cheery tune, and all you can do is gape after him.


End file.
